


Force of Nature

by zelda_zee



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their reprieve from certain death, Silver's rapport with his captain shifts in a way he did not foresee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set post 3.5.

It was surprising, to say the least, Flint thanking him. Silver, who prided himself on always being one step ahead, would never in a million years have foreseen that. It made him feel dumb and dazed, and he went around for the rest of the day feeling slightly shaken and casting surreptitious glances at Flint when he wasn’t looking, just to see if the man was acting oddly in any other respects.

But no, he appeared well as he talked with the island queen and sat with Mr. Scott and oversaw the plans for refitting the ship and getting her seaworthy again. They were going to retake Nassau, he’d said, the crazy motherfucker.

Retake Nassau, Silver thought, inwardly shaking his head. He hadn’t foreseen that either. Maybe he was losing his touch.

They dined with the community’s council of elders in a large, open pavilion. A crowd of locals gathered around the outskirts of the room, watching. It was awkward at first, but then a wizened graybeard brought out an earthen jug of some throat-searing, eye-watering, brain-dissolving island grog and things got a good bit merrier. As the night wore on the queen even cracked a smile once or twice.

The men got plenty raucous once the booze kicked in. Someone broke out a fiddle and someone else a squeeze box, and the islanders started in on drums and rattles and an instrument they called a marimba, and soon people from both camps were up and dancing and it looked like the party was like to last all night.

Silver watched with a smile. The music was fine and if he’d been whole he’d be up with the rest of them, making a fool of himself and not caring in the least. But his dancing days were done, along with much else of life that he’d once enjoyed, so he sat at Flint’s side and watched, glad to see the men enjoying themselves. It had been a long time since there'd been aught to celebrate, and they deserved it after all they’d been through.

He cast a sideways glance at Flint, who was looking slightly less broody than usual. The corner of his lip was even inching into something that could almost be considered a smile, watching the men as they hopped about and cavorted with widely varying degrees of dexterity to a lively tune the makeshift orchestra was playing.

“Y’ever cut a rug, Captain?” Silver asked on a whim.

Flint looked down in to the cup in his hand and for a moment Silver thought he’d ignore the question. “Oh, I had my day,” he said at last. “Though at much more staid sorts of affairs than this.” He gestured toward the men, now being joined, to their vociferous approval, by a few of the bolder island women.

Silver, who had difficulty imagining the world that Flint had once inhabited, made a noncommittal sound. He guessed there would have been ladies is fancy dresses and men in wigs and heels. He tried to picture Flint in the midst of all that, and failed.

“Does it pain you?” Flint asked, and for a moment Silver had no idea what he meant, until he realized he was rubbing his leg in time to the beat of the drums.

“No.” He laughed shortly. “For once, no, thanks to this.” He raised his cup. “It’s just hard to sit and watch and not be able to –” He broke off, grimacing at how pathetic that sounded. He stared stonily at the dancers, willing Flint to let it drop.

“You’re plenty able, John,” Flint said, leaning close. “Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”

Silver stared at him in astonishment. _John_. What possessed the man tonight? Either he was very drunk or he had at last truly taken leave of his senses.

Flint stared right back, and it was like falling into icy depths, staring into his eyes. Silver wanted to look away, but could no more do so than fly to the moon.

“Captain, I -” he stammered. “I –” Words, his one reliable ally, failed him and he was left open-mouthed, staring at Flint as the sounds of music and laughter receded.

He felt his face heat. Something changed in Flint’s expression, sharpening. His gaze deepened, darkened. Silver tried to speak, to breathe, to gasp for air, he knew not, only that this long, strange moment must stop, that he could not bear to have it continue when he could not _think_ with that man’s attention pinioning him in place.

And then, in an instant, everything shifted as Flint’s eyes dropped, with an almost reluctant inevitability, to his mouth and Silver, in a terrifying burst of clarity, finally understood.

It was only the briefest of glances. Flint’s eyes meeting Silver’s again was shock, visceral. Silver felt hot and cold at once, blood coursing fast through his veins, his heart pounding as loudly as the drums. He wet his lips to speak without knowing what he would say, but before he could Flint was up and stalking away, out into the darkness.

With a sensation of being pulled inexorably toward something whether he would or no, Silver pushed himself awkwardly to his feet, struggling with the twin impediments of drunkenness and disability, and followed.

Once beyond the reach of the torchlight, the night was impenetrably black. Silver stood, swaying slightly and waited for his eyes to adjust. In the time since he’d lost his leg he’d had little opportunity to indulge in drink and he was finding it a challenge now to stay upright, let alone to walk over the uneven terrain in the dark. There was no sign of Flint. They’d been given a place to bunk in the village for the night, but Silver had no idea in which direction it lay or, indeed, whether Flint had even gone there.

Why had he elected to follow, anyway? They had shared a strange, heated moment to be sure, but it had undoubtedly been due to the unfamiliar liquor and the heady relief of feeling for once that they were likely to survive until morning. And what did Silver plan to do if he’d found Flint? Insist that he explain himself? Throw himself upon the man? Silver had never done such a thing, had never thought to.

Had Flint? He thought of the way Flint’s eyes had dropped to his mouth, the hunger in them.

He blew out a long, shaky exhale. “Fuck,” he whispered to the night around him.

He looked back, wondering if he should return. The torchlight and music beckoned, the sounds of gaiety, but that was not what he wanted any longer. He didn’t know what he wanted, but his body ached with some unnamed need. He wanted to move, to dance with careless abandon like the men back in the pavilion, to run on the sand and feel his legs pumping beneath him, to fuck some sweet, forgettable girl the way he used to when nothing mattered and there was no Captain James Flint to make him question himself.

“You followed me,” said a voice beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. Flint, of course.

In the deep shadow, Silver could see the glint of his eye, the luster of the distant torchlight on his short hair.

“I needed some air,” Silver said.

Silence, but Silver could picture Flint’s face, the way his lip would curl at the lie.

“You should go back,” Flint said shortly.

“Why?” Silver took a breath and turned toward him, trying to make out his features in the dark. “What will happen if I don’t?”

It took a moment for Flint to answer, and for the space of that moment Silver felt as if the world had stopped, everything still and waiting.

“I think you know,” Flint said quietly. “And I think it would be best for us both if it didn’t.”

Silver looked back again toward the glow of torchlight, but only for a moment. He knew what he was going to do.

“I’m sure you’re right that it would be best if I went,” he said, injecting bravado into his voice that he was far from feeling. “But I’ll stay all the same.”

He reached out a hand that was shaking only slightly and not noticeably in the dark, and laid it on Flint’s chest. There was a slight intake of breath, a shudder, and the sudden leaping of Flint’s heart beneath his hand. Even through shirt and coat Silver could feel it pounding furiously.

Without warning, Flint’s hand was at the nape of his neck, sure grip pulling him forward, unbalancing him so he had to grab Flint’s shoulders to keep from falling. And then he fell regardless, as Flint’s mouth covered his and the earth opened up under him. Flint slid an arm around his back, holding him up and crushing their bodies together, bending Silver backward, taking his mouth and his breath and all thought and reason and any chance Silver might have had of making it out of this unscathed.

In the space of a single kiss, Silver knew that he could not hope to tame this, or control it, or hold it at bay. He may as well try to tame the sea, control the tide. Flint was no more biddable than those wild forces of nature, and Silver did not even try to stand in his way. Instead, he closed his eyes and opened to him and wrapped his arms around Flint’s shoulders and gave himself up to the maelstrom.


	2. Chapter 2

There was something solid and hard at his back, a tree trunk, Silver supposed, or possibly the wall of some structure. He could not tell in the darkness nor did he care as long as it continued to hold him upright as Flint ravished his mouth with a force and determined thoroughness that was not like anything Silver had before experienced. He was used to hot, soft, girlish kisses, passionate enough in the midst of a good fuck, but not able to make him lose his bearings – certainly not able to engender this overwhelming feeling of helpless need that had him clutching at Flint with clumsy fingers and groaning too loudly into the night. Flint ripped himself free and applied his mouth to Silver's neck with a ferocity that made Silver shudder and arch and flex his hips forward, seeking to meld himself to Flint. He was hard and aching for a touch, and God, he hadn’t known it would be like this; how could he have known when he had never felt anything to compare?

“What do I do?” Silver gasped. “Just tell me what to do.”

Flint froze. His forehead dropped to Silver’s shoulder and he stood, quiet but for the sound of his breath, loud in Silver’s ears and blowing warm across his collarbone.

“You mean to say you’ve never...?”

Silver stared out into the darkness, painfully aware of the damp heat of Flint’s body against his, of his erection nestled in the hollow of Flint’s groin, of the way Flint felt in his arms, like everything he had been lacking and hadn’t even known he’d missed.

He cleared his throat, tried to clear his mind enough to speak coherently. “Not as such, no,” he said, sounding woefully unsteady. “The, er, opportunity hasn’t presented itself.”

Which was a lie, and Flint would know it. Any man who lived upon the sea and was a denizen of Nassau and wasn’t wholly repugnant to look at had opportunity aplenty. Mindful of this, Silver added, “None that I cared to take advantage of, that is.”

Flint took a long, deep breath. “And this?”

“This is different.”

“We can stop,” Flint gritted out. “Before we’re both compromised. We can go back to –”

“Don’t you dare,” Silver hissed, a hot jolt of anger flashing through him, joining the mix of desire and fear and exhilaration and all the other feelings that were having their wicked way with him tonight. He pushed his hips into Flint, eyes falling shut at the sensation of Flint’s body rubbing against him just there, where he needed it. Flint responded so quickly that it made Silver gasp, driving his own erection against Silver’s, causing a sound very close to a sob to fall from Silver’s lips.

“You’ve done this to me,” Silver whispered urgently as Flint moved again, grinding their cocks together between far too many layers of clothing. “You’ve made me feel this. Don’t think for a moment that we can go back.”

“Then put your hand on me,” Flint growled. He drew back and Silver felt Flint’s hands at his front, tugging at his belt, opening his trousers. It took Silver a moment to react, and then he was scrabbling at his own as lightning-quick thoughts galloped through his mind, all more or less to the effect of _Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this_. Undeterred by his inner commentary, he pushed his trousers down over his hips and reached for Flint, who found his hand in the dark, taking it and drawing it forward until Silver touched him with his fingertips, hot and hard, unexpectedly slick. Silver shivered to feel this undeniable evidence of the captain’s desire – desire for him, or maybe he was that desperate that any warm body would have done. But no, he would not follow that path, not now.

Flint made a noise as Silver wrapped his hand around him and tugged, a low, animal moan. His hand splayed across the side of Silver’s face, thumb curling into his mouth, the other tightening on his hip with bruising pressure. Silver shifted his grip in the tight space between them and moved in his best approximation of what he was accustomed to doing to himself, finding that transferring the motion to another was more awkward than anticipated. Nonetheless, the feeling of Flint’s cock in his hand, the sounds the man was making, the realization that he was wringing those sounds out of _Flint_ and, knowing the man, that he was no doubt making every effort to hold them in and that they were escaping nonetheless in gasps and grunts and low, strangled curses – that was enough to have Silver perfectly desperate for reciprocation.

“Captain,” he blurted, and he felt Flint's lips curl into a smile against his neck.

“Very gratifying,” he murmured, his voice strung tight yet tinged with amusement. “But you’d best call me James for the moment.”

“Fuck it,” Silver panted. “I’ll call you anything you want, just –” He squirmed against Flint, rubbing his cock against Flint’s and his own hand, which opened instinctively to encircle them both. “Ah!” Silver exclaimed in epiphanic understanding . “Fine, then. That’ll do,” and he squeezed them tightly together.

Flint swore, his hand covering Silver’s, forcing him to move, setting a fast, punishing pace that Silver knew would have him undone in a matter of moments, if not sooner. Flint’s hand tilted his face up, his mouth descended on Silver’s again and now the kiss was even wilder than before. Silver held Flint to him, hand spread across the back of his head, fine, short hairs tickling his palm, and prayed fervently that Flint would not stop.

He wanted this. He wanted to drown in Flint, he wanted Flint's undertow to pull him down, he wanted Flint’s kisses to crash over him like the sea on a rocky shore, he wanted to ride this insanity to the point of breaking, like a full-rigged ship driven before a gale. He took everything Flint gave; he gave it back with as much force and focus, and when Flint wrenched his mouth away and cried “ _John!_ ” in warning, something in Silver exulted in triumph even as Flint spilled in warm, wet pulses over their joined hands.

The feel of it was more than he could take. His climax rose up in him, fierce and sharp. He made a noise, loud enough for Flint to clap a hand over his mouth, and Silver was grateful for it, for who knew what foolishness might pour from his lips when so unstrung? Flint held him, stroked him through it, until he sagged, panting, and would have slid to the ground but for Flint’s arm around his waist.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Flint’s chest below his chin. Flint had a hand in his hair, which at some point had come free of its queue, and his fingernails scratched gently at the base of Silver’s scalp, a surprisingly soothing sensation. With a divine lassitude suffusing his limbs, Silver wished they could remain like this, peace and ease between them and all their difficulties far away.

But it could not last, and after a moment Flint stepped away. Silver fastened up his flies, leaning back against the tree to let the comparatively cool night air dry his sweat while he regained his composure. He felt on suddenly shaky ground as all the reasons this could not possibly continue came to mind – the conflict inherent in fucking the captain while being the crew’s representative, the lack of privacy on a ship, what the reaction of the men would be, what assumptions they would make, and to his mortification, whether given his handicap the captain would even want him were he not hidden by darkness.

But he voiced none of this and oblivious to his thoughts, Flint wordlessly handed him a slightly soggy handkerchief, obviously just used to wipe their combined release from his own hand.

“What next?” Silver asked, as he did his best to clean himself.

Flint snorted. “What would make you think that I had any fucking idea?”

“You always have an _idea_ ,” Silver said.

“Do you think I planned this?”

Silver said nothing. He wasn’t convinced Flint had planned it exactly, but his words and actions tonight showed that he’d certainly thought about it. It gave Silver a queer, fluttery feeling in his core to imagine Flint thinking about him that way. It was quite astonishing, in fact, that Flint had not been discouraged by Silver being one leg short of whole. But then, Silver supposed that Flint was not the kind of man who would be drawn to those things that others were.

Flint sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Not tonight.”

Silver let his head fall back against the tree. Above them, beyond the tops of the palm trees, the tropical sky was awash in stars. Silver thought of the dull English sky of his youth, seldom a single star visible in the night between the seemingly ever-present cloud cover and the smoke and ash that rose from city chimney pots. Flint had grown up beneath that same sky, he presumed. It was an oddly comforting thought.

“Take my arm,” Flint said. “I’ll see you to bed.”

Silver groped in the dark until he found Flint’s arm, slipping his hand through the crook in his elbow. He made it a rule not to accept help from any of the men, though he knew they’d be all too willing to provide. But now, in the cover of night, with his body easy and his mind quieted and this new, strange understanding growing between him and the captain, it felt natural to let Flint hold him up as they moved carefully together, side by side, through the darkness.


End file.
